A Penchant for Weakness
by Eliza Beck
Summary: Sakura is no stranger to the concept of weakness. It is a trait that she often finds herself catering to, regardless of her willingness to participate in it. Looming over her, it crumples her attempts at bettering herself and sometimes, just sometimes, Sakura wishes she could just collapse beneath it.


**A Penchant for Weakness**

By: Eliza Beck

**Rating**: K+

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto nor do I claim ownership over anything but my thoughts and meanderings.

Sakura is no stranger to the concept of weakness. It is a trait that she often finds herself catering to, regardless of her willingness to participate in it. Like a shadow, this ugly, disappointing side of her weighs down her steps and burdens her shoulders. It is a heavy companion, she can state easily, and no matter how she tries to hide its presence in her life, she finds that it is a domineering, stubborn thing that seems to seamlessly insert itself into her daily excursions. Looming over her, it crumples her attempts at bettering herself and sometimes, just sometimes, Sakura wishes she could just collapse beneath it.

The strength she holds is constantly tested as she bears the brunt of her deficiency on defiant shoulders. They wish to curve beneath the laborious tasks she faces, but her determination and promise to herself to protect those she cares for pushes her forward; her nindo a resounding strength that beats heavily in her chest. With each step that Sakura takes, she resolutely reminds herself that she is _fighting_ for something and to simply give in to the easy route is to give up her morals and friends as well. So, she straightens her shoulders and hardens her eyes to her own flaws and works towards freeing herself from the bitter presence that is her own weakness.

It is not an easy endeavour to complete, however, and the kunoichi knows that in order to better herself she needs to part ways from those she loves first. Connections are dangerous, any shinobi knows, and Sakura is no different. When one feels something for those they work with, they are biased to their partners' flaws which can inevitably get them killed or worse – blind them to the truth before them. This weakness hits close to home for the woman and she flinches at the thought of ruby eyes whose pinwheels spin crazily; whose face she remembers so vividly that when it haunts her dreams, she knows who it is that makes her scream herself awake in fright. Eerily, that figure haunts her daily and he is a bitter reminder of a far gone weakness that she never quite faced.

It is because of him that she distances herself from everyone in order to grow stronger. She was a child in love when he slipped beneath her skin and poisoned her veins – an action she willingly approved of. That puppy love clouded her ability to be rational and she easily remembers her pathetic ability to be nothing but a burden as she played a princess in an unappealing setting. The vanity she felt over her clothing and hair was an obvious shroud of protection from the initial bullying she experienced as a child, but some shields are not helpful and the narcissism she originally wielded was nothing but a smokescreen to her inabilities as a ninja.

It was only when her superficiality was used against her did Sakura feel a slight moment of freedom from her ever oppressing companion. As she sliced her hair from her head in jagged cuts, decorating the forest floor with bubble gum, did she finally realize what being strong truly represented. It was about sacrifices in order to survive; giving up what you previously felt defined you in order to live longer and re-evaluate. The life of a ninja, after all, was short and unsure as death was just as likely of a companion as one's own weakness. Be it the end of one's life or those of your enemies, the grim reaper followed each shinobi's journey like a diligent shadow, simply waiting for the coin to drop and the blood to flow.

The chūnin exams had opened her eyes to the blistering, unappealing world she had entered. Like flowers blooming in spring, she witnessed as blood blossomed on the idealistic canvas she had previously painted, ruining her vision of the world by simply bringing the reality of it to her attention. Again, she felt that needling weakness re-enter her body as she was nearly strangled alive by a demon she didn't even know existed. Weak, that was all she was.

Those thoughts of her inabilities; her lack of skill to protect not only herself but those she cared about festered in her mind like a parasite, whispering words of slanderous means that kept the presence of tears in her eyes as she faced the destruction she didn't help to stop. It frustrated her that she was on her knees beneath the weakness; its presence sucking up her oxygen until she felt so close to asphyxiation that her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she staggered to the dirty floor, alone. No one wanted to be with her as she huddled into herself, wistfully hoping to disappear in order to eliminate the self-hatred that coloured her thoughts in a vicious and unforgiving red. The one she loved knocked her out and left her because all she could offer were frilly words of togetherness and friendship while the other simply left on his own accord in order to chase after the one she could not stop.

It was a bitter taste that settled onto her tongue as she was chosen last by those that were supposed to support her. But then again, why would they support someone that could barely stand on their own? Disgusted at herself and the weakness she had displayed then, Sakura became determined to stop relying on others. If she were truly an asset, she would need to be able to be strong enough to survive on her own and rely only on herself.

She hardened herself to the world she lived in and battled a titan in order to gain its knowledge.

But even as she blossomed like her namesake, becoming a formidable fighter through the aspect of healing, Sakura still feels the weight of weakness upon her strengthened shoulders. It frustrates her greatly that even after all her hard work and dedication; the beatings she received for inadequate performance, the self-loathing she felt for slowed comprehension, the countless hours she spent researching and learning and absorbing knowledge in ways reminiscent of a sponge, that she still is not good enough. It does not make sense that even as she grows exponentially; her peers seem to continually be ahead of her in skill. She still needs to be protected and saved, and it eats away at her self confidence that a medic cannot complete her job adequately by protecting her team.

She kicks at the earth with a throat-wrenching wail of vengeance, cracking its crust and delivering an earthquake that fells the trees in her vicinity and scares away the animals that now are homeless. She beats her fists angrily against the broken bark, watching as it splinters beneath her gloved knuckles and only wishes that each piece of wood was _him_ and that he can see that she is strong enough to protect him. Howling her rage, she cries openly as she continues battering the earth, beating out her frustrations at the fact that what she does never seems to be enough – that she is never enough.

It is late when she returns home from her exercise and removes the last vestiges of its existence from her skin. Her eyes are dry as she stares at her reflection, noting the deadened look that overtakes her features and whitens her skin. She is crumbling beneath her weakness, she knows, but she is tired and it is late and she doesn't know if she has anything else to give. Staggering, she collapses into her bed and closes her eyes, whimpering only slightly as she hates her own uselessness and for a moment she simply prays for a gapping maw to open and swallow her whole. It does not happen of course, and she does not escape her deficiencies, but she falls into an exhausted sleep anyway, all the while aware of the looming figure that cannot wait to simply crush her.

The next morning she wakes up and views the world through bleary eyes. Grunting, she tries to burrow her way into the wonderland beneath her covers in a petty attempt to face reality, but a vestige of her pride still remains and she pushes herself out of bed. Self-pity is useless, she knows, so she gets ready for the day and attempts to grasp the slivers of optimism so that she may plaster a smile upon her face.

The hospital is busy as figures run past her peripherals and disappear into rooms with urgency that she cannot feel. It distresses her, this emptiness that settles into her chest, and she can only frown as her weighty companion grins shamelessly at her weakness. Its eagerness is easy to note as she watches it lick its lips as it knows that she is once again close to rock-bottom, but she tries to ignore its overwhelming presence and battles her descent. Rallying herself, she faces the body that is getting frantically wheeled towards her upon a bloodied stretcher, and Sakura immediately begins a diagnostic. These are easy for her well-trained mind as many hours have been spent reading case study after case study in order to do this efficiently, so she notes that although an alarming amount of blood has been lost, it is mostly a bluster injury.

Washing her hands methodically, she returns to her patient and concentrates chakra to her fingers. They burst to life before her eyes and warmth fills her body, lightening the heaviness that settles in her heart. The man is moaning and she hushes him gently as she begins treatment, directing her hands over the impressive wound as she categorizes the damage in a mental folder. His muscles are torn beneath the absent flesh, but his bones remain intact without damage. She asks a nurse to prepare a blood transfusion and an anesthetic as this man's veins and heart seem intent on bleeding him dry, and Sakura calmly watches as the shinobi's eyes flutter shut as he disappears into unconsciousness. Content now, she works diligently to sew his muscles back together; each tendon weaving together like a beautiful tapestry before her eyes until she is satisfied with its finish. Next, she regenerates his skin, smiling slightly as the fresh flesh beats a pretty pink that matches her hair as blood flows beneath the cells and soaks the capillaries.

It will be tender when he gets back on his feet, she thinks, straightening her spine and hearing the resounding crack that signifies the undetermined length of time she had been bent over him, but he will get back on his feet and that is what ultimately matters. She had saved a life and although it may not have been the one that she truly wished she could save, Sakura reminds herself that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as weak as she thought.

_She climbs slightly out of the hole._

The thing with weakness is that it is a constant presence in the life that one lives. Like a discordant theme song, it delivers her from each defining moment to the next as a subtle – and often, obvious – reminder that people are simply human. Weakness is a trait that keeps her grounded in this world and reminds her that perfection cannot be achieved but that one needs to continually strive to at least come as close as one can to it anyway. It is through one's flaws that an individual grows and although Sakura feels the weight that it creates heavily, reminding her of her mortality, she knows that with each stagger she experiences, it is when she gets up and continues that defines her. She will never escape this feeling; this crumbling need to give in to the hardships of the world and let it walk upon her corpse and desecrate her body, but with each recovery made, she pushes the weakness momentarily aside to remind herself that there is strength in defeat, and humility in acceptance.

Sakura is no stranger to the concept of weakness but she has learned that with each challenge faced, one simply punches said weakness in the face. And when one has chakra-enhanced fists, it is one hell of a punch.

_Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! _


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